


Restoration

by Murphette



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bad French, F/M, Overwatch Retribution, Overwatch Uprising, Rating May Change, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Shimada Clan, Slow Burn, Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Team Talon (Overwatch), Work In Progress, sorta okay japanese, talon hanzo shimada?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murphette/pseuds/Murphette
Summary: While Overwatch is uprising and Blackwatch is retributing, the Shimada clan and Talon have their own business to handle on the side. Talon wants the powerful and dangerous crimelord to join them. The scion, however, is reluctant. They send one of their most charming agents to try to convince him otherwise, but things are not always as easy as they should be.





	1. Bonjour, Mata ne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note and translation notes numbered at the end.

Aim. Focus. Don’t let a single breath make either shift.

Focus. Focus on the target. Pull the string taut...and then...release. The arrow shoots, silently zipping through the air with the breeze only further assisting its accuracy.

It shattered glass and embedded itself in the shoulder of Hanzo’s target: a rich eccentric planning to fund a newer, “better” cybernetics lab in Hanamura; far too close to the heart of the city and the Shimada estate for Hanzo’s liking. There were far too many in Japan, anyway.

Blood splattered the paper walls and the man’s desk, sending the room into a panic and sending whatever evening meeting they were having to be incredibly adjourned. It wasn’t a killing blow, nor was it meant to be; it was merely a warning shot from the infamous archer-assassin.

The target’s face hadn’t moved away from an understandable expression of shock, but he also wasn’t falling unconscious. Perhaps that was a good thing.

Hanzo didn’t really care, actually, as he calmly watched the chaos through the large windows from his spot on a nearby building. He didn’t linger for too long; he knew better than that; and he was soon turning to make his leave, adjusting his tie as he stepped away.

Deafening in the relative quiet, though, was the boom of a sniper rifle.

Hanzo stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. He quickly turned around and rushed back to the top of the pagoda roof he was on, eyes quickly scanning the room. Blood soaked the walls, now, and there was a morbid hole in the target’s head. There was no recovering from that. Yet there was still only one hole in the large window; there was no telling where that sniper had come from.

Hanzo grit his teeth and growled, quickly looking around. In the moonlight, he spotted what looked to be someone leaping in a graceful arch from one roof equal to Hanzo’s up to a taller one. He wasted no time in rushing towards it.

He followed, climbing and hopping skillfully from building to building until he could climb up to the one his enemy sniper had landed on. He nocked an arrow immediately, but there was no one here. Another sound of a hookshot, but no visual to follow; this time it was behind him. He spun and flicked his arrow to sonar before shooting it at another curved roof, higher still. He caught a glimpse of someone on the other side of the roof, stepping gracefully across it. Hanzo smirked, and leapt that way.

He hopped into view with an arrow nocked, sliding down the roof with his own grace only to be surprised when the enemy target walked right off the roof, with Hanzo just barely catching a dark glimpse of their profile before they disappeared in between the buildings.

He gritted his teeth harder as he ran to the edge right as they used their hookshot again and flew back up, a silhouette against the waning moon. It was now that he realized it was a woman.

Hanzo growled. Damn it all, whomever they were, they were toying with him! Or perhaps leading him into a trap...he knew he shouldn’t risk it. Having someone out-snipe you was not worth getting killed over. Ironically, perhaps.

He lowered his bow and slipped the arrow back into the quiver. He’d look into this; put the guards and the clan on high alert. He leapt off of the pagoda roof onto its neighbor, which had a flatter roof. From there, he made his way home.

 

* * *

 

The Widowmaker watched through her visor as the archer made his way less frantically across the modest city buildings. She doubted he’d dropped his guard completely, if at all, but certainly he’d thought he had lost her.

She hummed with a smirk from her spot where she hung, upside down with her thread. Well, the night was far from over, and she still hadn’t met her objective. It was time to surprise him.

She aimed and shot her hookshot at the corner of a building, keeping hidden behind taller buildings as she chose shorter ones to be shadowed in. She followed him carefully, using her hookshot less often so as not to alarm him right away, as she used it mostly to propel herself forwards so she could catch up to him.

 

* * *

 

Her heels clicked on the roof as she landed a little ways away behind Hanzo on the flat roof, their figures cast in shadow as thick clouds covered the moon.

Hanzo immediately turned around and shot an arrow which she had already ducked to avoid; with her visor, she had the upper hand here. She was quick to toss a venom mine his way to stun him, and he stumbled with violent coughs, then growled as he nocked an arrow again.

 _“Non, non, non, cherie. Je veux juste dire bonjour,(1)”_ she soothed.

 _“Nihongo hanasu!(2)”_ Hanzo demanded through a cough, shooting a sonic arrow towards where he heard her voice.

It hit the ground by her feet. She purred, “How about English, _monsieur archer_? We both know that, don’t we?”

Hanzo frowned as he spotted her figure. Her gun was resting at her side, not aimed at him. He still nocked another arrow and aimed it at her chest. “Do not take me for a fool, woman. You have stepped into dangerous territory; _Shimada_ territory. I will not hesitate to shoot you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she replied calmly, “You are a dangerous sniper, even with your terribly out-of-date technology. However...based on your performance tonight, I begin to doubt your skills,” she chuckled, “You missed.”

“I did not miss!” the archer hissed furiously, “I did not intend for that man to die! That shot was meant as a warning, not as a kill. What business do you have that includes killing my target?”

“Tsk, what makes you think I have business with him? My business...is with you, _cherie_.”

Hanzo glared, the sonic arrow’s visual fading away and leaving them in darkness, aside from whatever glowed red on the woman’s head. He aimed for that instead. “Explain,” he ordered.

Widowmaker smirked in the darkness, still watching him through her visor. “You run a powerful organization, Monsieur Shimada, and have a certain skill set that...interests certain higher-ups in mine. And I come from an international organization which is looking for people like you to ally with; perhaps even to take you in as more than just an ally. A top-tier agent, like myself.”

Hanzo furrowed, putting the pieces together. The clouds covering the moon parted, and the bright moonlight revealed each of them. “You are from Talon,” he said in the same moment, made all the more certain as he eyed her appearance: a black and white uniform, with talon’s logo on the small top she wore. Black gloves, red lights on her weapons and visor, all contrasted by her pale, cool-colored skin and dark blue hair. When she clicked the side of her visor, it moved back up to reveal her eyes; a striking amber shade.

She set her hand on her hip. “ _Oui._ You are a smart man, Monsieur Shimada.”

Hanzo frowned; then furrowed; then slowly, cautiously, lowered his bow. “Tell me your intentions,” he demanded, “ _Now_ **.** ”

“I do not plan to force you to come with me, if that is what you’re implying,” she said, “I am merely putting the offer on the table. Talon can give you power, influence, and the means to strengthen your family’s empire more than it already is. In return, you will be an asset; or an agent, if you prefer.”

“And if I refuse?” he asked.

Widowmaker gave a light shrug, “Then I will leave you for now, and someone will ask again later.” She set her gun down as a peace offering and slowly stepped towards him, feminine and graceful in every sense of the words. Hanzo’s grip on his bow tightened, but he eventually stood up straighter and lowered his bow completely, dropping his arms to his sides with one holding the bow and the other still holding the arrow. If she attacked him up close, he needed to be able to stab or swing his weapons at her. Having them by his sides allowed this.

“You may have intended to leave that man alive for now, but eventually, you would have taken him out. So there was no reason in waiting,” she purred as her heels clicked against the concrete. “You are an **assassin** , Monsieur Shimada. A sniper; a Scion. Not some ruffian. Take it from me,” she stood before him, tall in her heels, though Hanzo was unmoved by it. Her actions were less threatening and more...forthcoming. She slowly reached up to adjust his tie and collar, saying, “Whenever you shoot, shoot to kill. One shot, one kill. It’s so much more satisfying that way.”

Hanzo scoffed, though his expression was darkly amused. “There are times for harm and times for death. And unlike you, perhaps, I do not enjoy my killings. Not...all of them, at least.” He didn’t dare glance away; weakness could kill him here; but he did step away from her, brushing her hands away with his arm.

“Hm,” Widowmaker hummed in consideration. She said nothing more, though, and stepped back as well. “Have a nice night, Monsieur Shimada. Talon will contact you again. Or,” she pulled a black business card out from her bosom, and flicked it his way. It landed on the ground before his feet. “You can contact Talon. Simply say you were kissed by the spider, and they’ll know who you are. _Au revoir_ , _Monsieur_ ,” she waved, picking up her gun and throwing it over her shoulder. Hanzo had his bow nocked again the moment he watched her pick up the gun, but she merely smirked and aimed her hookshot, sailing away into the night.

Hanzo did not follow her this time. He put his arrow back into his quiver, then glanced to the card on the ground. Narrowing his eyes, he bent down to pick it up; it was perfectly plain aside from a dark grey phone number that was hard to read unless you angled it just right in the light. How annoying. He stared at it for several long moments before finally shaking his head and turning away to hurry back to the estate.

He pocketed the card, safe, in his vest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) "No, no, no, dear, I only wish to say hello."
> 
> (2) "Speak Japanese!"
> 
> This is only the beginning, and I would like to write more! I'd like for this ship to get a little more popular, and that's sort of my goal with this story, is to bring more light to it. Let me know what you think, even if it's just kudos! Support is greatly appreciated, and it'll help inspire me to write more.


	2. Réunions, Settoku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes numbered at the end.

Three weeks later, a letter arrived to the Shimada Castle, the envelope plain from even a stamp or an address. The only thing written on it was “Shimada Hanzo”, typed out in cursive rather than its proper kanji.

Hanzo frowned as his subordinate set it on his desk. He flicked a blade from his vest pocket to cut it cleanly open, and eyed its contents carefully before pulling the letter out. The paper was blank.

He huffed and handed it back to the subordinate--a kobun, in Japanese terms--that handed it to him. Hanzo ordered, “Figure out what kind of invisible ink they used and make it appear.” The yakuza member bowed obediently, taking the letter back before hurrying off to do as he was told.

Hanzo turned back to his work on the holo computer, in the midst of conducting business with a dying gang in America. They offered an American base for the yakuza in return for some protection from Overwatch. Hanzo was bluntly telling them to shove off, but in quasi-polite business terms. He had enough to worry about.

“Shimada-sama,” returned the kobun, letter in hand with words faint but revealed. Hanzo reached out to take it back, and he sat back as he studied it. 

> “Hanzo Shimada,  
>               We hope you’ll continue to consider our offer. We are available at any time of day for you to contact should you make the decision to accept. We offer support to the Shimada clan, including but not limited to:  
>  -Power security and expansion  
>  -Additional agents upon request  
>  -Steady financial compensation  
>  -Influence in political matters pertaining to our sponsors  
>  -Protection  
>                In exchange, we merely ask for your cooperation and assistance in our goals, such as your presence and/or representation per our necessity. Please contact us as soon as you agree, and we will compensate you for your time.  
>                Thank you.”

He frowned at the letter, and with an audible “Tch,” he threw it away into the paper shredder.

 

Another three weeks went by. This time it was an encrypted email.

Two weeks later, it was a phone call, with a pleasant-sounding woman using codewords described in the email.

Finally, two months after their first encounter, Widowmaker made her appearance again, and stole his kill once more. He didn’t hesitate in firing a volley of arrows in her direction at this, but she quickly hid behind a large air conditioning unit to avoid them. The unit, however, did not survive, unfortunate for the office workers that would be showing up for work in a few hours.

“You dare to dishonor me again?!” he shouted at her, two arrows nocked and ready to find her head once she came out of hiding, “I will not stand for this!”

She laughed, snide and haughty, “Monsieur Shimada, won’t you calm down? Surely _this_ target you intended to kill?”

“It is none of your concern!” he barked back.

“Perhaps not,” she said, “But you are still my concern, cherie. I only wish to talk once more. And I should warn you, as well, that should you kill me, Talon will have an entirely different reason to find you.”

Hanzo scowled, “I am not afraid of them. I welcome them to try.”

She sighed, “This is not a contest, monsieur. We are not enemies.”

“You are a nuisance.”

“But not an enemy. You aren’t denying it, oui?.”

He frowned. “What is it you want? Is it for the same reason as last time?”

“Yes.”

“I still will not agree.”

She tsked. “ _Et c'est comme ça. Un autre jour, alors._ _(1)_  We will meet again, archer.”

“If you dare to interrupt me again, I will not be merciful,” he warned in a growl, ”You do not want to rouse the dragon.”

She flicked her visor on to watch him through their barrier as she stood, and made her way to the edge of the building, “I should certainly hope you learn not to be so kind. Impress me more next time, archer; I know you’re able to. I long to see your true colors. Au revoir.”

And with that, she dropped off the building and once more disappeared into the night. He did not care to follow her, and lowered his bow, slipping the arrows back into his quiver.

Next time, she would not make a fool of him. He’d be sure of it.

 

When “next time” happened, it was at a warehouse, where a legal gun manufacturer was located. The company boss had found out in detail somehow how the Shimada clan dealt their business in arms dealing, and was threatening to become a whistleblower should the clan refuse to make him their sponsor and share the profits. Hanzo refused to be bargained with by such a petty company.

“Bravo, monsieur. A beautiful kill,” Widowmaker complimented as she swung in through a skylight, already broken from Hanzo’s entry minutes ago. She landed a short distance behind him, just outside the pool of blood splatters.

The clan members Hanzo had brought with him immediately stepped forwards and aimed their weapons at her, ranging from guns and lazers to blades and _kyoketsu-shoge(2)_.

He raised a hand to stop them and barked at them in Japanese to get back to work cleaning up the mess; it had been a bloodier murder than he’d thought. A few members of an opposing yakuza had showed up, apparently working for the company and appointed with protecting the CEO, whom now laid dead at Hanzo’s feet with his elbows and knees mangled and an arrow through his skull.

Hanzo turned around, bow on his back, and he met Widowmaker’s expressionless eyes with his own, cold from the kill. He flicked some blood off of his gloves as he regarded her. “I’m guessing you could have done a better job?” he asked callously.

She smirked. “My shots would have been cleaner, oui. But your torture was interesting to watch.”

Hanzo raised a brow and eyed her, “Hm. You enjoyed it,” he stated.

“Are all mafia so cruel?” she asked.

“Perhaps. Movies and T.V. only expose so much.”

“Oh, I would not have taken you as one to be interested in the arts, monsieur.”

Hanzo turned to hiss at his clan members to stop trying to listen and to hide the bodies. He watched them for a moment to make sure they did their work properly, keeping Widowmaker in his peripherals as he replied, “I am not.” Then he changed the subject, “Again, with the offer?”

“You know me so well, monsieur,” she quipped, “Is your answer still the same?”

“You know me well,” he retorted, letting up his own smirk. It disappeared back into an expression of seriousness when he looked back over to her, “I will not agree.”

“What a shame. Talon will continue to keep you in mind, though. You should be flattered; they only let in the very best.”

He scoffed lowly, and bent down to remove the arrow from the target’s head. “I’m not. Leave, now.”

“Very well, then,” she stepped back, aiming her hookshot back up towards the skylights. “ _À la prochaine, chérie_.” _(3_ _)_ Her hook grabbed the beam of a skylight, and she flew off into the early sunrise.

 

More letters and emails, phone calls and visits. At one point Hanzo received a gift basket, filled with fruit, sweets, and expensive sake (though it was a brand he didn’t care for). It was getting ridiculous, he considered. Every time he’d stop thinking of them, they’d remind him once more of their offer. They appeared, though, to not want to actually annoy him, merely to keep their offer on his mind, as they never bombarded him with too many messages or gifts at one time. He’d even received apologies for their insistence, though he doubted they were sincere.

In between the messages, Hanzo would occasionally be met with by the woman. Sometimes, she would manage to steal his target. Other times when he did complete an assassination, she’d compliment his form, or give him tips (which he found incredibly annoying). And other times still, when he let someone live and she didn’t intervene, she would scold him. “Tsk, tsk, cherie. When will you learn?” she’d say to him, and she’d point her fingers like a gun, “One shot, one kill.”

Whenever he was in a particularly bad mood he’d shoot at her, and she’d just barely managed to dodge his arrows, thanks to her infra-sight. At one point, he succeeded in shooting her visor off her head: a close call. She almost shot him dead for that, but obedient to Talon not to kill him, she refrained and quickly left before the temptation could take over. She was kept away for a while after that, and yet she wondered if he ever really aimed to kill her or not. He actually was very impressive; his aim was impeccable. Still, she was positive hers was better.

Talon had tried sending someone new out a couple of times. Once it was an omnic, whom was never seen nor heard from again. The second was a man, whom returned with several arrows having been removed from his limbs while out on the field. Talon decided then to keep sending her out, as her reports of him appeared to show that he respected her on some level.

It took a while for her to notice that after some time had passed, he’d stopped aiming for her head. He’d send warning shots, or would aim for her equipment. Three times, he’d shot her gun out of her hands. One time he shot the arrow through her gun, igniting a bit of remaining anger out of her. She thoroughly punished him by shooting a venom mine at his feet. He didn’t hesitate in putting two arrows through her gun the next time, followed by shooting the mine as she released it. That day was another day of restraint for her.

“Monsieur Shimada,” she sighed tiredly one day when they both appeared to feel like being tolerant to the other, “You continue to say you will not agree, but not once have you actually said the words ‘decline’ or ‘refuse’. If you tell me this much, Talon may reconsider their offer.”

He let up a sardonic huff, and replied equally as tired to her in Japanese, “ _Watashi wa meiwaku ni ataisuru."(4)_ They parted ways calmly that day.

“Your skin,” he furrowed on a day where she visited him on a roof while the sun was out, “It’s turning blue.”

She extended her arm out to view and admire, turning the limb in the light which she was quickly becoming unable to feel. “Oui. Talon does amazing things for its agents. My aim has never been steadier. And blue is such a lovely color, isn’t it?”

“It...suits you,” Hanzo hesitantly replied, eyeing her appearance curiously.

She watched him, and hummed, “Monsieur Shimada, surely a man of your class knows that it is rude to stare.”

He flicked his eyes back up to her face. He grunted, “ _Shitsurei."(5)_

She forgave him with a slight smirk, and it was another calm farewell.

At their next meeting, however, she stole his kill once again, and in return her gauntlet was shot off her arm. He left her alone to figure out how to climb down from the building they were on. She retaliated the next time by shooting his armor off of his shoulder.

And the gifts, messages, and visits--all filled with Talon’s insistence--continued, because they knew the Shimada clan empire was falling.

* * *

 

The scion considered the possibilities of just how Talon continued to find out where he was going, and who he was targeting. It couldn’t have all been guesswork. He wondered if it was someone in the clan, betraying the family name and playing canary as an informant. He separately appointed two members he felt he could trust to find out who it was (choosing the two separately just in case one of them did happen to be the rouge).

There was no luck, though, even as the clan continued to become smaller, with members going missing or being killed excessively on the field and out on missions. His influence on the city and the strings he could pull were breaking; and money wasn’t flowing as it should be.

As no one was turning up in the clan, and key members were being killed, Hanzo started suspecting that it could be an outside force; Talon, namely, trying to weaken him enough to where he had no choice but to join them or else lose his power and standing.

Perhaps he deserved this much, but after all that he’d done and how much he’d prepared throughout his entire life to take position as lord of the clan, he wasn’t about to let the clan be destroyed so easily. So, he planned an outing for Widowmaker to meet him at. A fake target and a slightly confined space was all he needed.

 

Near the edge of Kyoto, just above an alleyway with a single street light, Hanzo peered down the length of his arrow, aimed for the head of an unfortunate policeman. Based on what he knew about Talon, they looked for chaos more than power. Killing a cop would stir some trouble in the town.

He kept his ears perked for the sound of a hookshot, or of heels; whichever came first. Eventually, the moment came where he heard both on the neighboring building to his left, and still he remained unmoving, aligned and aimed, not allowing his form to falter as he listened to where she was....then, at the subtle sound of her gun’s mechanics changing from assault rifle to sniper, he adjusted his aim and shot just before she did.

The arrow and the bullet both traveled towards the unsuspecting officer at invisible speeds, but neither of them made it. Instead, Hanzo’s arrow hit the sniper bullet speeding through the air, and both landed in the concrete sidewalk of the alleyway, uselessly embedded in the stone. The policeman yelped and looked around in a panic for the source.

Hanzo let another arrow fly to hit the man’s radio before he could call for help, sending the officer fleeing in fear from his attackers. More arrows immediately in hand, Hanzo spun and shot a volley at Widowmaker; one at her gun, one at her gauntlet, and one at her headpiece. She gasped, stumbling back in shock as her equipment fell, broken, to the ground. He kept an arrow pointed at her, but stood calm while she stared at him. Once her shock left her, she lowered her shoulders and let out a snarky, evil-sounding laugh, spreading her arms in a light bow as if on stage. “ _Désolé, monsieur_ ,” _(6)_ she said, “Have I finally offended you? If you plan to kill me, you’ve missed more than once already.”

Hanzo remained unmoving, glaring at her with a hard frown. “I have questions, Maker. You will answer them.”

“‘Maker’? Ugh, do call me by my proper title,” she tsked, folding her arms and propping her weight on one hip.

Hanzo pursed his lips. “Widowmaker,” he snapped, accent thick around the word, “Pah! That is not important. I want to know why Talon keeps sending you. Why are they so insistent? Answer.”

Expression gone from her face besides a light glare that simply seemed natural on her fine features, she replied, “I've told you before, Shimada,” she reminded, “You have a lot to offer, as do we. It’s only natural Talon and the infamous Shimada clan come together. It would strengthen the both of us.”

“That does not answer my question,” he warned, lowering his voice as he threatened, “I need only let go of my arrow to send it through your heart. Do not waste my time any more than you already have.”

“What will you have me say, monsieur? I have explained it plainly enough for you plenty of times. Besides, isn’t there an English phrase for this? ‘I am only the messenger’?”

“I do not take excuses!” he replied, “Members of the Shimada clan have been disappearing; _killed_. Someone is seeing to the fall of the Shimada clan, and I have no reason not to believe it’s you.”

Widowmaker raised a brow. “Really?” she asked, unreadable.

“Do not play coy!” he growled, “You know more about this. How else would you consistently know where I am; who I am dealing with?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a light shrug, “I merely do as I’m told, monsieur. They send me here with the mission of speaking with you, and then I return after our conversation is over. It’s as simple as that. I’m an agent, not an officer. As for whoever it is that’s causing you trouble...have you considered that it may be Overwatch?”

He furrowed. “Overwatch?”

“Oui. Talon has been looking into them for many years,” she explained, “They’ve caused a lot of trouble for us; always in the way of progress. Have you had trouble with them in the past?”

Hanzo’s frown sharpened. “That is none of your concern.”

“Hm, we may very well have the same enemy, monsieur,” she hummed, “The enemies of Talon will fall. And yours will, too; sooner rather than later, if you agree to our aid.”

Hanzo snarled, “I do not need nor want your aid! Even if I did, I do not deserve it. I alone am to bare the weight of ruling as a Shimada lord.”

"And you would risk letting it all fall away so easily?” she asked, tilting her head at him. She moved to take a step forward as she had been able to do in the past, but when he did not let his bow down, she paused, and merely focused her eyes on his. “Monsieur Shimada...Talon could help you restore your family’s empire. Why do you continue to disagree?”

“I do not trust you,” he spat plainly.

“You do not need trust. Not in me, at least. Just ambition; a desire for more. You are a man of great potential, and it would be a waste for it to crumble.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning. I speak from an outsider’s perspective.”

He continued to glare at her, unmoving and arm not wavering from the strong continued stretch of his bowstring. She watched him in return, frowning and bored. After a tense moment of silence, she spoke up, deadpanned, “Clearly, you haven't made a satisfying decision yet. I’ll leave you to...ponder it some more. Don’t forget, monsieur, of that card I gave you. You don’t have to throw such dramatics to get Talon’s attention.”

She stepped backwards, stepping gracefully over her destroyed equipment, and kept her eyes on him, still on the defense. There was nowhere for her to go without any of her equipment, namely her hookshot, and so she could only call upon Talon’s helicopter to come pick her up.

Hanzo kept his bow drawn and arrow aimed until he heard her tell them her coordinates. Only then did he finally lower his bow and back up as well, senses high and thoughts busy as he climbed off the roof and quickly snuck away.

 

Three weeks later, Hanzo cleared out the main room, demanding to be left alone. All of the clan members, whether they be guards, servants, or agents, left the crime lord in peace, shutting the shoji doors behind themselves.

Hanzo was dressed in a black and blue cloud-patterned kimono, tied with a black obi around his waist and layered with a black hakama. Tonight was not a night of work for the crime lord, it was a time of reflection. More importantly, it was a time of mourning, though he would never admit that to the elders outright.

It had been two years since he’d stained the scroll upon the wall red, yet he still refused in letting anyone change it. It was morbid, perhaps, but it served as a reminder. He knew changing the scrolls and hiding the sword would not let him forget any less, as every part of his being and his everyday life reminded him of his actions. He did not wish to have these reminders taken away from him. The clan, also, would not forget, he made sure of that.

The elders had given him this much, and had also respected, perhaps reluctantly, in his desire to be left alone to meditate tonight. It was quite the occasion, even if it were personal.

Hanzo knelt down before the stained scroll and the long since untouched sword. He laid out a bowl, a carved incense holder, and a single feather, plucked especially from a sparrow. He lit each incense he had individually, and placed three in the incense holder. The rest, he settled in the bowl, and placed his empty hands upon his knees.

His brother had never been one to meditate; not willingly, at least. Had he done it, perhaps he could have recentered his focus on what mattered with the clan instead of those frivolous pursuits of his. If he had only done that, maybe the clan elders wouldn’t have gotten tired of him tarnishing the family name, and then maybe they wouldn’t have pushed Hanzo to straighten Genji out. Then there wouldn’t have needed to be any straightening! If Genji had just been able to listen for once, and follow even the most basic of orders such as ‘meditate’, then maybe Hanzo wouldn’t have had to--!

….he takes in a deep breath, slow and shuddering. It takes him a minute to untense, and even longer to encourage his hands to release the fabric they were clenching. He breathed….and breathed....slowly….but surely, calming himself down. This was not a time for rage. Rage could be sought out on the battlefield, or in the training rooms. Not here. Not now.

He inhaled the scent of the incense, and it slowly helped him to calm and clear his mind. Though the Shimada family was never strictly religious in any way, they were very traditional, and certainly spiritual. He bowed his head, finally presenting his offerings to the kami _(7)_. His anger temporarily settled, he mourned in peace.

She let him have this much.

* * *

 

“What did he say this time?” Maximilien asked as he escorted Widowmaker down the dark halls of one of Talon’s underground bases. He spoke in French, for her favor.

“He said he ‘would not agree’ again,” she replied simply in mutual French, her gaze following their feet as they walked.

“Did he? What a shame,” Maximilien sighed, as much as an omnic could sigh. “Perhaps, then, you are not his type.”

“Hmph. Maybe not,” she frowned, a little offended, but she could not deny the possibility. The Shimada boss was hard to read, anyway.

Maximilien was quiet for a long moment. The silence felt tense, and Widowmaker furrowed a bit as she realized she was feeling anything. She was forgetting her poker face as she considered how her personal feelings had gotten in the way of last night’s mission. She wasn’t supposed to /feel/ anything, much less empathy.

“You look...disturbed, mademoiselle,” Maximilien noted.

She flinched at being caught off-guard, then she huffed in fake amusement. “Nothing disturbs me,” she assured.

“Not even failing your mission?” Maximilien asked, not missing a beat.

She stopped, her eyes falling on the omnic in surprise. Her frown tightened.

Maximilien stopped as well, and turned calmly to look at her. He motioned towards a door just a little bit further down the hall with a flourishing sweep of his arm. “We are nearly there, Ms. Widowmaker. Come now, the doctors are waiting.”

She felt herself tense. Without showing any reluctance, however, she nodded and followed Maximilien the rest of the way, with him opening the door for her with the press of a button. The room, unfortunately familiar to her, was much brighter than the hallways. The main, large room was a lab, occupied by a few scientists, or ‘doctors’, as they were more often called. Equipment laid about, either standing on its own or settled on counter tops, and there was an exam chair in the center of the room. A few more doors within it led to three other rooms, two of which she spent most of her time in. Not included in these two was her own room given to her, barren aside from the essentials of a bed, light, small dresser and black desk. Among the other two, the first was a small training room, allowing her to hone her skills as a fighter and markswoman. The other held a series of equipment, screens, and an all-too comfortable examination chair of its own. Whenever she left that room, she felt a little number inside.

At this point, it was a comfort.

“Relax a little, mademoiselle,” Maximilien assured, “I will put in a good word for you with Ogundimu, regardless of your actions.”

Widowmaker stopped showing anything on her face, though the tension in her body would not go away. What exactly did he mean by that? Was she caught in her lies, or being scolded for not getting Shimada to agree again? Maybe both? She couldn’t question it for too long, as she had to nod and step in to be taken away by the ‘doctors’.

From there, her conditioning and training continued, slowly but surely breaking her very being.

* * *

 

Don’t breathe. Don’t think. Aim; be precise. Hold it steady...never hesitate. Pull the trigger, and shoo--!

An arrow went through her target’s head before she could pull the trigger, sending the omnic crumpling and haywiring to the floor of the control tower. She gasped and lowered her scope, quickly standing from where she was crouched behind a balcony wall. She slipped back inside for cover as she looked around, quickly snapping on her infrasight.

Damn it, where was the damned archer!? Why was he here? Surely, it couldn’t have been anyone else; who the hell else uses a bow and arrow in this day and age?

Another arrow shot into the wall beside the sliding balcony door, and Widowmaker quickly darted around the large glass desk to hide behind a black shelf. She listened, and heard quiet, but confident footsteps land on the concrete floor of the balcony, then become silent on the white office carpet. She watched him through the shelf with her visor. An arrow was readied in his bow, but he wasn’t yet aiming it. He turned to face her direction, and suddenly a familiar silver business card was flicked near her feet. She narrowed her eyes at it, then looked back up at Hanzo’s red shape before stepping out from behind the bookcase. Her visor slid away so their eyes could meet, and she aimed her gun in assault-rifle mode at him.

He aimed his bow at her in return. “I am only here to speak with you,” he assured her regardless.

“How did you know I’d be here?” she demanded, watching him carefully through her sharp, amber glare, “You could not have _possibly_ known Talon’s agenda.”

“It is as you said,” Hanzo replied, momentarily letting up a cynical smirk, “We have similar enemies. That omnic was an Overwatch member, was it not?”

“Blackwatch,” Widowmaker corrected. After a slow moment of sizing one another up, she flipped her gun onto her shoulder and motioned for him to follow her out, “Come on, _se dépêcher.(8)_  We shouldn’t linger; omnic bodies can be traced easily. Let’s speak elsewhere, Shimada.”

He watched her for a moment, then gave a curt nod, lowering his bow as he followed her out of the room so they could escape from the commotion.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you in China, Monsieur Shimada,” she commented once they were well out of range of the control tower, walking across a nearby airstrip; dark, empty, and privately owned.

“I have not lost all of my connections yet,” he answered, “An ally informed me that an unknown number of Overwatch members were coming to Lijiang, supposedly for a break from the annoyances of Europe’s scrutiny.”

“Hm, you’re close. That omnic was here to speak in favor of Blackwatch, to try to influence East Asia to support them in the current scandal. I put a stop to that,” she smirked, smug.

Silence fell with Hanzo glowering. So much information, simply _missed_...his sources really were lacking. At least he’d been able to find her. Time was becoming of the essence, and it had been too long since her last visit.

Once they made it under the cover of a hangar, Widowmaker turned to face him once more, her equipment lights glowing red against the shadows the passing clouds would create. She regarded him with full attention, even if her occasionally moonlit expression appeared disinterested. “Monsieur, I doubt you went through the trouble of finding me for recreation. Did you forget that the card I gave you had a number on it? Or do you simply like me?” she let up a mocking smirk.

“You have been my contact,” he answered, unmoved by her jarr, “I wish to continue this business with the representative I’ve been assigned. And…” he folded his arms and rose his chin haughtily, glaring with a mocking smirk in return, “You have stolen enough of my targets. It was more than time for me to redeem myself.”

“Ohhh, _je comprends_ , _"(9)_  she frowned, and glared, “You wanted payback. Well...here you have it, archer. Don’t become comfortable in victory against me, though. Besides, that makes it one to...how many? Oh, I’m afraid I’ve lost count.”

Hanzo was about to snap a retort, but the sound of an approaching airship interrupted their conversation. Both snipers turned to see a black and red airship flying down to land before them, the bay door opening with a ramp for access. Widowmaker spun her head with her ponytail flicking over her shoulder to look at Hanzo again. She stretched an arm out towards the airship with a simple, “Well, monsieur?”

Hanzo narrowed his expression, eyeing the ship in one final consideration, then glancing at her outstretched arm…

He stepped forwards, bow tightly in his hold as he motioned her to lead the way. She kept next to him instead, neither wanting their back turned to the other, and they walked onto the airship together. The entrance closed as they took their seats across from one another, and the aircraft took off, camouflaged by the dark sky as they headed for...where? Hanzo did not know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) "That is how it is. Another day, then."
> 
> (2) A double-bladed, knife-like weapon attached to a rope or chain; a classic choice for ninjas.
> 
> (3) "Until next time, dear."
> 
> (4) "I deserve the annoyances."
> 
> (5) "Apologies."
> 
> (6) "Sorry."
> 
> (7) Gods/spirits
> 
> (8) "Hurry up."
> 
> (9) "Ohhh, I understand."


End file.
